The Assistant
by Simple Turtle
Summary: "When one wants to make the best of impressions, one sends Flambeau. With impeccable manners and even finer style, he's a perfect gentleman. Jeremiah Fink employs him as a personal assistant and those who encounter him are struck by his generosity, discretion, and expertly folded pocket squares." That is how Columbia knows him, but it's impossible to live up to that description.


Disclaimer: I don't own Boishock Infinite or anything else.

Chapter 1

Comstock's meeting were all the same. Religious trite here, prophetic trite there. When one came to one of Comstock's mandatory meetings, they were expected to not only stay for the full session, but to also contribute to things that most of the Founder's didn't really care about.

Sure, when building Columbia, they'd all had the same thing in mind, but several of them had strayed from the original ideals and his boss was one of them. Flambeau couldn't tell if Fink had ever had the same thoughts for Columbia as the others, but he certainly didn't have them now. It was all about money to him, the dreaded Silver Eagles.

Someone shifted next to him and he was suddenly greeted with the smell of peaches. He glanced to his left and saw Rosalind Lutece, one of the only people who didn't fall for anything Comstock said. She looked rather bored herself, on fact she looked as if she wanted to be anywhere but in the meeting. She moved again, and he was once again greeted with peaches. His eyes were drawn to her notes, nothing he could understand. A mess of numbers and letters, something that she only understood. Everything was written in a strange shorthand, no doubt to save time, but he almost wished he could understand it.

"Sir?" someone interrupted, a small man named Vanderwald, "I suppose now might be the time for a break?"

"Now?" Comstock repeated, "Why of course, 20 minutes." Flambeau stretched his legs and stayed seated, he was a little surprised that Comstock had agreed so readily, maybe he was starting to see how bored the lot was getting. He looked back to Rosalind's note and noticed she was still there, scrawling furiously.

"Shouldn't you take your break?"

"If I leave now, I shan't be returning." she didn't look up at him, "Shouldn't you take yours?"

"I will, in a moment, of course." he stood up, "Would you like some tea?"

"Yes." she answered. He nodded and walked away. Imagine the controversy that would come along with getting her a cup of tea, at least the room was empty. It took a lot to get some of the men in the room to ignore the fact that she was a woman. Comstock preached equality for all genders, and it ended there, but several people still had their ideals. They were all waiting for her to settle down and get married. To pass her genius off to one of her sons. He snorted at the idea.

"2 cubes please." she called as he was preparing the tea.

"Yes." he nodded. The women was completely absorbed in her work, she might not have even realized who she was talking to. He prepared the tea and sat down next to her again. "Take a break." he said. He barely knew her, but surely she'd like to stop working for one moment?

"No."

"Yes?"

"What do you want?" she looked up, her gaze hard and focused, "Flambeau?"

"In the flesh." he nodded and pushed the tea to her. She narrowed her eyes and hid her notes.

"Again, what do you want?" she asked. She lifted the cup to her lips and took a sip, she grimaced but continued to drink it.

"I take it you have better tea at home?"

"Indeed I do." she murmured.

"Oh." They fell into silence again. Rosalind began writing again and he sipped at the bitter tea slowly. He caught the sound of music outside and recalled the fair going on outside. Comstock usually didn't hold meetings during the fair, but he'd never gone anyway. Fink always pushed all of his work to him so he could go and hold the raffle. "The raffle." he murmured.

"What?"

"What do you think of the raffle?" he asked.

She wrinkled her nose, "I can't say I agree with it."

"But you've never spoken up about it." he said. Surely, Comstock would listen to her. He, although he was considered a Founder, seemed to be very low on the ladder. He was Fink's assistant to Saltonstall, and an unnecessary edition to Vanderwald. He wouldn't even begin to think about Clark and Marlowe thought of him. He was young, only 23 years old, and that left him with little credibility.

"And what good would that do?"

"Hmm," he shook his head, "Have you been to the fair?"

"Once." she shrugged.

"I haven't." he said, "Will you go with me?" She paused in her writing and turned to him. She said nothing for a moment, choosing instead to narrow her eyes, "Well?"

"I've only been once." she repeated.

"And when was that?" he asked.

"Today, I had to walk through to get here." she shrugged.

"So you haven't actually done anything there?" Flambeau stood, "Leave your notes here, we still have 15 minutes to look around."

"No, I'm busy." she turned away but didn't resume her writing. She tapped her pen, considering the thought for a moment before nodding. "Fine, just a moment." She stood up and covered her notes. She debated if she should leave them there at all before turning to him. Her face was blank and she didn't seem to look all that eager to accompany him to the fair.

"You'll have fun." he said as he led her out of the room, "We'll have a snack and come back."

She hummed but didn't reply. He began scouting for vendors. It was early, and some of the better ones were not open yet, but the ice cream shop was. "Do you like ice cream?"

"No." she answered.

"Peanuts?"

"No"

"Caramels?"

"I can't say that I do."

"Cake?" the short pause before her 'no' told him that she did. "Then we'll get cake." he decided. The shop wasn't too far, but the silence between them was unbearable. Any attempts to make conversation were immediately shot down with a definite answer and by the time they sat down at the small table, he was ready to go home. "What type of cake do you like?"

"Chocolate." she replied.

"Chocolate?" he repeated, "I saw you as more of a butter cream girl." she looked at him with some emotion behind her eyes, but he wasn't able to identify it. He hoped he hadn't somehow offended her. "I think I'll order a carrot cake." he said, "Wait here." He stood up to get the cakes, casting a glance back to make sure she didn't get up and leave.

"Well hello!" a cheery woman smiled from behind the counter, "How can I help you, mister?" Flambeau smiled politely, it was interesting to see girls like this, especially when Rosalind was a few feet away.

"Two slices. One chocolate and one carrot cake." he said. The girl smiled and left to get his order. He again turned back to Rosalind, she looked very bored. Her fingers drummed against the table impatiently and her eyes watched a group of people setting up a stage outside.

"Here we go!" the girl returned and he paid her. She smiled at the generous tip and he returned to the table.

"Sorry for the wait." he set the cake down and front of her and watched as she subtly licked her lips. "The cakes they make here are some of the best." he said as he handed her a fork.

"Really?" she took a bite of the cake, a rather large one, he noticed. She chewed slowly, as if trying to determine every ingredient in it. After a minute, she swallowed it and licked the small amount of chocolate left on her lips. "You may be right." she murmured as she took another bite. He watched her eat the entire thing, each forkful seemed to be the exact same size. Each bite calculated and timed. Maybe because she was a physicist, maybe it was habit.

"You aren't eating." she said. Again, without looking up. He cleared his throat and picked up his fork.

"I was distracted."

"With what?" she looked up and out of the window, trying to find whatever it was that had distracted him. He filled his mouth with cake, hoping that she wouldn't realize that he'd been watching her. "We've been here too long. The meeting-"

"Forget the meeting." he said. She narrowed her eyes at him

"And have Comstock lecture us as if we were nothing more then school children? I don't have the time for it."

"It will be fine." he found himself saying, but why? "You're having fun here, right?"

"We haven't done anything." she said, "But I suppose I'm done with the meeting anyway."

"Exactly." he nodded and took another bite of the cake. What were they to do now? If she chose to stay with him. She looked as if she wanted to go home. "I suppose we'll be parting now?"

"You're done with me already?" she said. He couldn't decide if she was upset or not,, her face gave no clues.

"No!" he said quickly, "There are a lot of things I'd like to do to you." The awkward silence that hung in the air could have suffocated him, "I meant… there are a lot of things I'd like to do _with_ you." She shifted uncomfortably in her seat. Her fork scraped the plate and she kept her eyes on him.

"Yes, I understand." she nodded, "We should get back to the meeting."

"Of course." he tried to keep the disappointment out of his voice but he failed. He finished his cake and stood, "If your ready, let's go." She nodded and stood as well.

"Lead the way." she said. He nodded and started walking.

0.o.0.o.0

Comstock's meeting wrapped up quickly and he asked to speak to Rosalind as everyone left, presumably about the fact that she'd returned 10 minutes late. Flambeau waited outside of the door for her. He knew she wouldn't want to talk to him, but the fact that she'd let him take her out meant something, right? Probably not.

The door opened quickly and Rosalind stepped out. She cast a glance at him before walking away. He considered following behind her, after all, they wouldn't see each other again until next month's meeting. He cleared his throat and she looked back once more, "Do you have a moment?" he called.

"Just one." she continued to walk and he rushed to catch up.

"Did you have fun today?" he asked.

"No."

"Did you at least like the cake?" He sighed.

"I did." she nodded.

"Then you won't object to me taking you to get more."

"No." she said, "I have a job to do and I won't be taking time off just to eat sweets with _you_."

"Oh dear, that hurts Rosalind." He said. She cast him a glance that looked almost murderous before speeding up and leaving him behind. Flambeau let her leave and briefly wondered why she seemed so reluctant to talk to anyone.

"Flambeau!" Fink's voice cut through the crowd of people and he sighed, "Come boy, we have errands to run." Flambeau watched Rosalind disappear into the crowd before hurrying over to Fink. "We've got invitations to hand out. Comstock is having a great ball after the Fair is finished." Fink handed him the stack of invitations and a list of addresses. "I'll be back at the office, it's too hot to stay out today."

"Alright, sir." Flambeau looked over the list in noticed Rosalind's name on the guest sheet. He'd never known her to come to any of the social gatherings, especially ones that required her to have a date. She wouldn't be coming to this ball, but at least he knew her address now.

0.o.0.o.0

A/N: No one ever writes about Flambeau ever. He had a pretty nice description in the Bioshock Infinite guide book. It wasn't a lot, but that just means I get a lot of freedom with his personality. So long as he remains a charming gentleman with nicely folded pocket squares. And boy did those pocket squares look nice.

Also, Robert isn't here yet.


End file.
